These Dark Memories
by QueenLydia
Summary: There are memories that Pietro Maximoff spends all his life trying to avoid. My attempt to write something a little... different.


**AN: Okay, this one is... a bit different, and frankly I'm not sure whether I should really be posting it at all. It could probably going in my drabble collection, but I wanted this piece to... stand on it's own, in a way. So, something about me that most of you don't know is that I actually roleplay as Evo-Quicksilver on Tumblr. Today I did a roleplay meme which was basically, "send me a symbol and I'll write a memory of my character based off of the request". Some lovely person sent me a whole bunch of symbols, and as I was writing memories for Pietro it kind of turned into... this. I'm not really sure what this is, but I wanted to share it here just to... I don't know. Whatever. I hope you guys enjoy it, and if you do then check out my other stories- I've got a big multi-chapter project coming up pretty soon, so... sorry for the word-vomit author's note, and enjoy.**

**a childhood memory**

Pietro loves his sister, but sometimes he really has to question the way she's able to talk him into almost anything.

"Hey, Pi!" She calls from the other side of the twins' immense playroom, and Pietro looks up from where he'd been playing with several dolls. "Come over here, I made cookies!"

Cautiously he approaches Wanda's little plastic table, where she's sitting surrounded by numerous empty cans of playdough. Laid out on the table are dozens of little yellow circles with multicolored dots covering them. Wanda grins at him.

"Try one, Pietro," she urges. "Then tell me how it tastes."

He draws back. he might be only five, but he considers himself pretty smart for a five year old (his father would credit that to the fact that Pietro was never sent to a human school- the thought makes Pietro pull a repulsed face), and he definitely knows that eating playdough is generally a bad idea. "Umm..."

"Come on," Wanda urges, batting her big, dark blue eyes at him. "Please? I promise they'll taste good."

Pietro lets out a sigh, and reluctantly picks up a cookie. It feels rubbery in his hand, and he fights against grimacing. "Okay Wanda," he murmurs, and raises the cookie to his mouth...

**a repressed memory**

Pietro doesn't even remember what the argument was about. If you asked him years later, he wouldn't remember the incident at all.

"Shut up, Pietro!" Wanda screams, and as she flings her hand back he suddenly feels himself being thrown back as well, and the next thing he knows his body is connecting with the wall. There's an explosion of pain and he feels something shatter in his arm. He can't keep from screaming- or at least he thinks he's screaming, because everything he sees is sort of a haze of black and grey right now. Maybe he isn't screaming. Maybe it's someone else.

No- that definitely isn't him, because he would recognize Wanda's scream anywhere, and he's instantly trying to get up, to move. Wanda's in danger- she isn't as fast as he is, she could get hurt, he has to help her...

He feels small hands pushing him, holding him down, pleading with him- "No, no, don't move..." Droplets of water are dripping on to his cheeks, and they're warm. Tears? "Father! I'm sorry, I'm sorry Pi, I didn't mean to- **DADDY**! Father, _**please**_!"

He had a concussion, a fractured arm, and the entire wall of the twins' room had to be rebuilt. But years later, Pietro didn't remember a thing.

**a memory of their sibling(s)**

Driving in the car. Wanda is sitting next to him, her seatbelt loose over her thin frame, and she's smiling brightly as she stares out the window. She doesn't suspect a thing, even though their father almost never takes them anywhere- especially not to get ice cream, of all things. Something like that would have made Pietro suspicious almost immediately, but not Wanda. She's too naive, too innocent. Innocent little girl, never thinks, never wonders, never worries.

He hates her. He hates himself. Why won't she stop smiling?

He's startled when he feels her warm hand on his cool skin, and when he turns to look at her she's leaning over and grinning at him. "I'm getting mint chocolate chip," she chirps brightly. "What are you gonna get?"

She's talking to him. Why can't she stop? Why can't she just shut up and quit looking so stupidly happy? She's so stupid. "Vanilla," he responds grudgingly, staring out the window to avoid looking at her.

Even though he can't she her frown, he knows that she does. "But you hate vanilla. Get mint chocolate chip with me! It's good!"

"I hate mint chocolate chip."

She rolls her eyes. "You're so boring, Pi." And then her tone's lighter, and he knows that she's smiling again. "I'm so happy we're getting ice cream! We never get ice cream."

She's so stupid. Why can't she see it? Why can't she see what's about to happen? She's so stupid.

"You know what? I dare you to get mint chocolate chip when we get ice cream." She's playing with a strand of his hair, because she likes to do that whenever she's trying to make him do something. "It'll be really good, I swear. And then when we get home-"

Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up, "_Shut up_! You're so stupid, Wanda, stop talking and leave me alone!"

**a vivid memory**

Wanda draws back, surprise and hurt in her eyes, and it feels god because he needs her to be mad at him right now. He needs her to be as just angry with him as he is at himself.

"You're so mean, Pietro," she mutters under her breath, shrinking back towards her window. "I hate you."

And he doesn't even feel sorry.

**a memory of death/loss**

Wanda screams. She thrashes, kicks, fights, but the men in the yellow coats are too strong and there are too many of them. She's so panicked that she can't even used her powers.

"Pietro!" she pleads, her voice desperate. "Help! Help me!"

He had promised that he would always protect her. He remembers making that promise. It really wasn't that long ago.

She's sobbing now. "Father! Father!"

Pietro looks up just in time to see them shut the doors, sealing his sister away from him. He can't bring himself to look up again, because in his mind he can still hear her screams echoing in his ears; and as he gets into the car again, it feels like half of him is missing.

**a fading memory**

On the way back from the asylum, they do indeed stop to get ice cream. Pietro chooses mint chocolate chip.


End file.
